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Summary

Tracer goes for another kiss, and her hands run greedily over Widowmaker's body, as if attempting to memorize every curve. Because it's been years and everyone thought Amélie had been killed and the thing she's become is cold as a corpse and it's all gone wrong, but it's Amélie, it's Amélie, and Tracer feels a mushroom cloud of old desire and sadness blooming in her chest.